Too Late
by Moon Faery
Summary: Does the time ever come when it's really too late to fix your mistakes?


Too Late (A Sailormoon Christmas Ficlet)  
By Moon Faery/Crystal-chan  
Genre: Angst/Supernatural  
Rated: PG13  
Warnings: Angst, Death, Supernatural Occurrences, General OOC, Alt. Timeline  
Disclaimer: I don't own SM, although I do own this plot. Mine! Grrrr....  
Author's Notes: This is going to be a bit disjointed. It ended up like that, and I decided that it adds to the overall effect.  
  
Translation Notes:  
Shinigami- The Japanese God of Death  
***  
Usagi ran home through the frigid Christmas air, the tiny little bells that adorned her earrings tinkling with every step. Her hair flew out behind her like twin streamers of icy silk, even as her breath puffed in the air. It was so cold that the tears froze on her cheeks. Those fateful words- the ones that had sent her running- kept ringing in her ears like a death knell.  
*Usako, I... I'm going away again. Next semester. To America... You... Don't wait for me. I might not be coming back for a while. Maybe not at all.*  
*You're leaving me, Mamo-chan? But I...*  
*Usako, I'm too old for you. You need someone closer to your own age. You'll meet someone new, younger. This will-*  
*Will? Will what?! You're leaving me! AGAIN!*  
*Usako-*  
*I HATE you, Mamoru! You said you'd never leave again, that you'd love me forever, and now you just... DON'T?! I HATE YOU!*  
Usagi choked again as she recalled the conversation. It was all clear as moonlight... the hurt in his eyes at her words... the way he stared at her when she started yelling... the way his hand reached out for her... Right before she ran out; right before she ran away.  
'He'll hate me. I love him, and he's going to leave me all alone... And he's going to hate me,' Usagi thought raggedly as she stretched her long legs and ran faster, putting more distance between herself and the source of her pain. 'Oh, why couldn't I just let him go?'  
Her legs finally started giving out as she staggered to a halt, gasping for air and ignoring the cold as it burned her lungs. She stumbled a few more steps, then collapsed, hair pooling silver and gold around her.  
'It's not too late,' she realized, impossibly blue eyes closing as she gulped against the lump in her throat. 'I- I can still go back, still apologize... It's not too late...'  
The sound of a sneaker scuffing the pavement behind her barely gave Usagi time to turn. A sharp retort cracked through the chill winter air as she twisted. It was followed by another just like it.  
The world flashed red as pain blossomed in her chest like a cherry blossom in spring.  
"Usako!" a male scream of anguish came from about a block behind her. Usagi knew that he'd be too late, even as she glanced down at the hands she'd clutched to her chest to see what he'd be late for.  
The figure behind her took a startled glance at Mamoru, then faded into the shadows, gun glinting briefly in the light of the waning moon.  
Usagi stared at her hands. They were painted a sticky, glistening red, as was the front of her blouse. The color tuned black in the moonlight. A puzzled frown rose to her lips even as the world faded to black.  
The last thing her mind registered was the feel of the concrete slapping her cheek as she fell, and a male voice crying out, "Usako!"  
Then, there was nothing at all.  
***  
It was strange, looking down on what she knew to be herself. There was something red and sticky covering what was once a brand-new silk blouse, carefully chosen to match... well, not hers, but someone's eyes, and her silvery blonde hair was getting all dirty in the crimson-stained snow and ice on the ground. The 'her' on the ground was breathing shallowly, but there was a bubbling sound coming from her with every movement, like she had something in her throat.  
There was a boy- a man, really, but he looked so cute that she couldn't think of him as anything other than a boy- leaning over her, crying. There was something wrong with that; he shouldn't be crying, much less over her. She was right here.  
She looked at the figure next to her. He wasn't crying, but He did look sad. He was familiar, known, comfortable; really, He was the only thing with those qualities in sight. He was only a little taller than her, robed- cowled, actually- all in black, but she could still see His violet eyes gleaming from within the darkness of the hood. He was holding a scythe that had a delicate blade made out of silver and obsidian, but she wasn't worried; He'd never hurt her. She knew who He was, and she knew that He belonged here. That other person, though, the one crying...  
She knew that the boy was someone important to her, and that he always would be, but... she couldn't remember him. She couldn't remember much of anything, really. No matter how had she tried, she couldn't recall why he was so important, or why he was crying, or why she was standing over herself. Names, places, people... none of them were there, and she knew they should be.  
But He wasn't worried, so she decided not to think about it. If she was supposed to know that stuff, He'd tell her.  
Even as she puzzled this out, the cowled figure- Shinigami that was His name- moved in and gathered a handful of strands from the air. Funny, she hadn't seen them there before, even though they connected her to... well, herself. Carefully, he used his scythe to cut each and every string, except for one. This one glowed a bright rainbow of colors, while the others had just... been, in a silvery sort of way. Not to mention that instead of going to the girl- it couldn't be her, she was right here- it went to the boy, the one who was crying. That one He left alone, and let it fade back into a faint glimmering, then into invisibility. Now that she was looking, she saw other strands, going off other places, each a solid and bright color all its own, before they vanished back to wherever they came from, untouched.  
The girl on the ground stopped breathing.  
*Come,* Shinigami said inside her head. She frowned, then turned to follow him.  
"Usako! No! Don't..." The dark-haired boy choked, tears running harder down his cheeks. "Don't go. Don't leave me..." He shook the girl- well, corpse now, but it didn't seem right to call someone he had obviously cared for a corpse, even if it was the truth.  
She paused to watch, the words tugging at something in her. Moonlight blue eyes turned to Shinigami, puzzled. A question passed her lips, unbidden.  
"It's too late now, isn't it?" she asked, a bit sadly, even though she wasn't quite sure why.  
Shinigami nodded somberly, then gently took her hand, and lead her away into something else. Behind them, the boy kept crying. 


End file.
